Fit for a King
by Ferox Ryter
Summary: I posted this a while back but stuffed it up utterly, so here it is fixed. Members of the city Watch that we all know have had kids, and now there's a new scheme blossoming involving Angua's daughter, who doesn't have a clue.
1. Default Chapter

[ooc] Okay people! I'm trying this again. The Discworld is not my creation, although the plot for this may be considered so. I tried posting this before but I've re written it so it makes sense. Don't trip in any plot holes![/ooc]  
  
Click. Click. Click. Click.  
Constant scratching noises echoed down an otherwise empty street in the shades. Nobody was watching as a large, flame-red dog, most probably a Wolfhound, trotted purposefully down the street. People had watched before, but had soon learnt their lessons. Red x Wolf-like-dog = RUN. Suddenly the animal paused, ears pricked forward in anticipation. After it heard whatever it was, the dog walked on, slower this time, and far more quietly.   
  
In a blur of red fur the creature leapt landing and rolling with its catch on the street. The small girl shrieked, her short blonde hair considerably messed up.   
"Derry! Cut it out!" then she promptly smacked the werewolf on the nose. Derry left his game, brush tail wagging furiously, canine face grinning like a fox. This was his usual attitude.   
"You know Mum says you spend too much time like that!" the girl accused the werewolf. "Furball! We're supposed to be out righting wrongs! Being champions of Justice!" With that last phrase the girl struck a dramatic pose, that with a few years and a good figure would look quite impressive.   
The werewolf identified by the name of Derry whimpered apologetically. He lifted a back leg to scratch at the collar around his neck. Usually a pretty young girl talking to animals would be considered easy pickings in the Shades, but Sera was more trouble that it was worth. Whenever anyone did feel bold enough to try, Derry would always step in. Then the would-be-probaly-still-is-anyway criminal would be dealt out more justice than was deserved by Sera on the way back to the watch house.  
And even if they had succeeded in nabbing, robbing, or even pushing Sera and getting away from Derry, there would still be Angua and Carrot after them. The ties were strong in the family/pack (depends on opinion).  
The flame red werewolf gestured with his head for Sera to climb onto his back.  
"You just want an excuse to be a wolf some more," Sera accused. Derry shrugged, an unusual gesture from a wolf and waited for Sera to climb awkwardly onto his back before running off in the direction of the watch house. It was getting late, and their mother didn't like them out too long.  
  
****  
  
A shuffling of paper was deliberately evident in the watch house at Pseudopolis yard. Brian was always very loud when helping daddy with the paperwork, and let's face it, there was always a lot of help needed. Almost regally a solitary paper plane glided out of the doorway, doing graceful, lazy loops. It drifted into the opposite wall, the nose crumpled up slightly, and then fell to the floor.   
There was some more noise of rustling paper.   
Soon after another paper plane arced out of the doorway, with a few small modifications. However, this one didn't reach the wall. A lengthy spurt of flame intercepted it, turning it to ash, which then dropped on the floor.   
"Good boy Sparky!" Brian rewarded his very own pet swamp dragon with affectionate pats, a piece of coal, and the usually bubbly stupid talk people use for animals and babies. The dragon was small enough to sit on his shoulder, and according to Sibyl wouldn't grow much bigger, it was a new breed she was working on. Sparky was a normal sort of brown, but had a splattering of orange on his huge floppy ears.   
"I wish you wouldn't do that," said Sir Samuel Vimes tiredly as he handed over another cigar. Sparky lit it on command, and it was passed back.   
"But Sparky needs to practice," persisted Brian. The boy was only about eleven, but he was shaping up well in Vimes' opinion. Also in Sibyl's opinion too.   
"One day every member of the watch will have their own crime fighting swamp dragon! We'll have a whole dragon squad!"  
"You'll have to stop them exploding all the time," reminded Vimes. He wasn't sure if he liked the idea of dragons in the city watch or not.   
"They're getting better," persisted Brian. "We've only had one in the litter do that so far. And they're nearly a year old." Vimes didn't want to destroy his darling little boy's dream, so returned to the mountain of paperwork without a word. He carefully removed the stray lizard that had fallen asleep on the top of it, and set about reading. He wasn't paying much attention. In truth he was paying about as much attention to the words in front of him as a schoolboy in a double maths lesson on a Friday afternoon knowing he's got five minutes until he can go home. It was starting to get dark, and he'd be able to take Brian home soon, a perfect excuse to get away from the paper.   
There was a creak of a door downstairs, and an enthusiastic bark.   
"Sound like Derry and Sera," said Sam. "Why don't you go and see them for a while. Ask them around for dinner if you want. I'm sure Mummy wont mind." Brian grinned and ran out the door and downstairs, Sparky holding on tightly to his shoulder, creating a high-pitched whistle.   
  
Sera slipped down off Derry's furry back and pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt from a box beside the door. She turned away as he got changed. She could hear someone coming. Judging from the whistle that accompanied the footsteps, it was Brian and Sparky.  
"You can't come it yet!" Sera called out for Derry's benefit.  
"Yes he can," contradicted Derry, "It's alright." Brian came into the room. Sparky lessened his iron grip and sat up on the boy's shoulder with as much dignity as a lop eared scruffy looking miniature swamp dragon can muster. It wasn't worth the effort really.   
"Where have you guys been?" asked Brian as Sparky started clicking in his ear, scolding him for the speedy dash down the stairs.  
"Out in the world righting wrongs!" announced Sera with far too much energy for the time of day.  
"In the shades looking for trouble," translated Derry. Derry had his father's flame red hair and distinct eyes, and would probably grown to inherit the height. But he had inherited the werewolf ability from Angua, still, it didn't bother him. True, it was slightly awkward having an uncle that was a sheepdog, but in the upside, at least he was a champion sheepdog. His little sister, Sera, looked more like her mother, mostly. She was pretty, blonde, blue eyed and the perfect little princess. Slightly detached from reality, but likable nevertheless.   
"Defending the innocent! Making evil cower in its den!" continued Sera, an almost lunatic gleam in her eye.   
"Noticing how quiet the shades are because everyone's petrified of Sera's speeches," Derry continued to interpret. Sera's monologues were renowned. Whenever she and her brother managed to bring in a criminal, or suspicious bystander, or anyone who was in the wrong place at the time, there was usually far more justice than necessary dished out before they reached the jail.  
"Would you stop ruining my moment?" Sera asked her elder brother, agitation showing in her tone.   
"Hey, if I don't someone else will. In a much nastier fashion."   
"Hmph," pouted Sera. She even managed to pout prettily.  
"Oh, don't pout," Brian tried to be diplomatically. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, which Sparky climbed along and began inspecting her golden locks. "Dad said you two can come for diner if you like." Sera laughed at Sparky as his claws started preening her.  
"We'll have to check with Mum and Dad," said Sera, her previous sour mood gone as quickly as it had come.  
"You can bring them too," said Samuel Vimes. The kids turned, they hadn't heard him come down the stairs. Derry looked suspicious, he decided Mr Vimes was up to something.  
"We'll ask," promised Sera. 


	2. 2

[ooc] I am happy. Do you know why? Because I got a review! That is why I'm happy! Happyhappyhappyhappyhappy.....ok, I should stop with the sugar now. I like reviews (That's a pretty subtle hint you know) and they make me write more, because I don't write until I know someone has read. And so, I write! Glad someone enjoyed the first itty bit. Sorry this is taking so long, I got a lot of holiday homework to do.[/ooc]  
  
In the cold of the Ank-Morporkian winter night three figures proceeded down the street. The smallest one was Sera, still full of energy and general chirpiness which Angua was certain came from Carrot's side of the family, or perhaps it was closer to the canine bliss where an individual is certain that everyone is their friend and life is a game, so you'd better throw the ball. Going up in height, the next figure was Angua herself, her brilliant blonde hair starting to pale, but the same ready alertness in her stride. The third and tallest figure of the group was Carrot Ironfounderson, looking his usual noble friend-to-all self, although on closer inspection his flame red hair was also starting to fade and fine lines were forming at the edges of his eyes. However, people said the lines at the edges of his eyes were from smiling too much, not old age, and his paling hair was a trick of the light, because Carrot was Carrot, he was part of the city, and the city never grew old.  
Older, perhaps, but never old.  
  
Now, someone who has read the first chapter should by now be asking, 'Where is Derry?'  
And now, a responsible narrator will answer that question:  
  
There was a yip, a louder bark, and much scraping of claws on cobblestones as the familiar and striking red fur that made Derry such a noticeable boy/dog went past in a blur out of a side alley, accompanied by a brown speckled beefy looking dog that could only be called Butch and, slightly further behind one must admit, a creature that appeared to be a rouge mop head, and smelt like a privy carpet.   
"Derry!" shouted Sera, her high voice bouncing off the stone walls of the district, going all the way down the street and causing Foul Ol' Ron to have another bout of hearing voices. Derry skidded to a halt and came back to join his family, Butch followed, so did the mobile rouge mop head.  
"Take it easy son, you just had a bath," said Carrot, patting Derry on the head fondly, completely unperturbed that his son was currently, for lack of a more appropriate adjective my spelling checker will accept, furry.  
"Take it easy, I'm getting old and I've only got little legs," said a voice from around ankle height. Sera looked down at the rouge mop head.  
"Be a good girl and pick up poor little Gaspode because he's such a darling boy wont you?" hinted the rouge mop head. Sera ducked down and picked up Gaspode happily like a toy, hugging him to her chest. She didn't seem to care that he only had about half a coat of fur, nothing particularly soft or fuzzy, a tongue that was a bit too green to be healthy, and a rather poignant aroma.   
"Gassy!" she announced fondly. 'Gassy' was the name she had taken to calling Gaspode, not because she registered the fact that he was rather aromatic, but because it was the shortened form of 'Gaspode' made slightly cuter for her tastes. The pet name always made Angua smirk, Gaspode himself having long given up trying to convince Sera to call him otherwise. In any case, you couldn't reprimand the girl, she was just too damn cute. And it must be admitted, Gaspode was fairly Gassy.  
"Derry, where are your clothes?" asked Angua patiently. Derry seemed to lose the a lot, almost deliberately. Angua had often heard mothers complaining about their children outgrowing their clothes, well, Derry grew a lot more frequently than some children. Derry sat down, whined and pawed the ground innocently.  
"Derry, you can't keep losing them, why can't you realise clothes are important?" Derry shrugged, which was oddly empathic for a wolf. This tendency of his to not care about clothing worried Angua, as it reminded her strongly of her brother, who had not been the best of sorts. However, Derry seemed far too much like Carrot to turn out that bad.   
"Don't worry dear. There's a spare set at the commander's house, for emergencies," soothed Carrot.   
"But we can't afford to lose so many." That wasn't exactly true. With the news that Carrot had kids, people were eager to meet them and people seemed to have a hundred thousand things they didn't mind being borrowed, or old clothes they could give them. It was just another product of carrot's charisma.   
"Come on!" sand Sera. "We're almost there! And it's getting cold!" If Derry had a human mouth, he would have said something sarcastic. Probable Butch wandered off and the mildly untraditional family continued proceeding down the street.   
  
A few minutes later Carrot rapped on the back door of the Vimes' residence. It was opened almost immediately by Brian, who had clearly been expecting them. Sparky was brutally consuming a plate of charcoal, with a bucket nearby on standby for emergencies.   
"You made it!" observed Brian. Sparky ignored them and continued his meal.  
"Yup," said Sera, still cuddling Gaspode.   
"Why wouldn't we have?" asked Angua. Derry trotted off to find his stash of clothes. Brian shrugged.  
"I dunno."  
"Brian! How many times have I told you not to feed Sparky in the kitchen?" came Sybil's voice as she came into the room and paused.   
"Hello Mrs Vimes!" sang Sera. Gaspode waited for the inevitable moment when he would be told to go outside.   
"Good afternoon," greeted Carrot. Sibyl looked a little confused,  
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were coming over."  
"We came for dinner," sang Sera, still happily chirpy even after walkies.  
"Dad said we could," affirmed Brian.  
"But we were going to the palace for dinner with Havelock..." said Sybil.   
"So glad you could make it!" bellowed Vimes.  
"Thank you for inviting us," replied Angua, suddenly aware of why they had been invited around.   
"Samuel," reprimanded Sybil, "We have to go to the palace. You remember this."  
"Crikey! I plum forgot!" shouted Vimes.  
"I sincerely doubt it. You know very well we can't just up and leave guests."  
"They could come with us," offered Brian, a remarkable peacemaker between the two, although, it seemed to Vimes, He was always biased towards Sybil.   
"You wouldn't mind, would you?" Sybil asked her guests before Vimes could come up with yet another excuse not to see the Patrician.   
"Of course not," answered Carrot. Vimes nearly kicked himself, but he didn't, because he would have fallen over.   
"Well, that's sorted out," said Sybil, slightly calmer. "And Brian, get that dragon off the table and into the pen with the others.  
"Aw! But Mummy! He's got to be socialised!" objected Brian.  
"Take him outside, now," repeated Sybil, this time using the all powerful 'Mother tone'.  
"Off to see the Patrician!" sang Sera, still in a singing mood, as she skipped about in circles.  
"Eurgh, put doggy down. Doggy's gonna be sick," pleaded Gaspode as he bounced up and down in Sera's arms. 


End file.
